Lost In An Abyss Of Dark And Light
by SaintClaire
Summary: Co-written with the lovely malifcbfan1899 - Sif's life after Loki's capture on Midguard. She bends to the dark, she bends to the light, her choices and feelings revolving around Loki. The time comes for hard decisions and choices, Loki doesn't make things any easier.
1. Chapter 1

Lost In An Abyss Of Dark And Light

By malifcbfan1899 and SaintClaire

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The utter silence of the trip down the corridor was unnerving Sif. She led the small party down the corridor, and though the guard's boots made a heavy stomping noise it was Loki's noiseless gait that had her on edge. Despite the fact that he had manacles around his legs, his wrists, and his neck, the links of chain didn't so much as clink together. His feet made no noise whatsoever on the marble floor, and with every foot further down the corridor Sif's blood pressure rose a little higher.

The prison was silent when they arrived. Prisoners stood pressed up against the walls of their cells, watching in awe as the Prince of Asgard was marched past in chains, to the maximum security section of the dungeon. The magic and wards encasing it were as old as the rocks surrounding them, no-one had ever escaped. No-one ever would.

Though no-one, in all of Sif's knowledge, had ever been quite able to match Loki's standards in both mischief, magic, and cunning. These prisons hadn't seen Loki pit himself against them yet. She wasn't sure what to hope for, that Loki would escape and vanish among the nine realms, or that he would wither over the centuries, locked between grids of gold and walls of white. Both had their merits.

The party halted in front of the strongest cell in the lowest floor. Frigga herself, at Odin's demand had strengthened the wards and magical barriers that made it. The whole 15 square feet was designed to keep from being penetrated or altered by the Dark Prince's magic.

Stepping forward, hating herself, she opened the cell, the wall of golden links fading into non existence. Loki was marched into the cell by the rest of the squad, they stripped him of his heavy chains and retreated, as he stood there expressionless, gazing at something far in the distance.

Finally, after removing the chains and triple checking that the cell was free of anything it should not hold, the guards stepped out, and the golden barrier winked back into existence.

Sif suddenly had the need to suppress a dry sob, as she watched Loki trapped like a freak in a cage, held for Allfather's expense.

She watched as the last of the guards left the dungeons. When the man's eyes met hers, she nodded dismissively at him.

She would stay for a little while, if only to watch. It didn't feel right to just _leave_, as if they had always been each other's mortal enemies, as if she should celebrate yet another defeat of evil.

Evil.

She still couldn't quite link the word to him. It didn't quite fit, wasn't quite true.

Loki seemed so small, all alone in the empty white room that was now and would be his prison until the end of his life. He looked almost like the boy she had met all those years ago, running after his big brother, trying to prove himself just as brave or skillful as Thor.

She missed that boy dearly.

She remembered their last talk before he had fallen into the abyss. She remembered the bright mischievous shine in those green eyes, blurred by the darkness of his greed for power and jealousy of his brother.

How long had that boy been lost? Why hadn't she noticed?

Could he be brought back?

His voice startled her back to the present.

"What do you want?"

Her eyes met his.

"What makes you think I want something?"

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't." he replied, coming to stand at the edge of the cell, just behind the wall that separated them. "If you have something to say, please, do share."

The mocking curl of his tongue around the words he threw into the air angered her further.

She made a step forward, not letting herself be intimidated by the emeralds that were his cold eyes.

"I was wondering how it had come to this." This little bit of honesty couldn't hurt, could it? "To us being enemies."

She expected a sarcastic answer about him always having been neglected in Thor's favour. She expected a speech he had given to Odin, about ruling being his birthright.

She did not expect him to laugh.

"Enemies?" he asked in what was almost a teasing tone. "I'm not your enemy, Sif."

She frowned.

"You've made your choices." she said coldly. "If you insist on sticking to them, we cannot be anything but enemies."

He grinned. It was a dangerous grin, filled with an animal edge that made him a predator. She was the predator, in this game between them. She refused to be prey.

"I went against Odin's commands. It's not like you haven't done the same."

His words sent shivers down her spine. Yes, she had gone against Odin's commands. But, it had been just once. Alongside Thor.

Alongside Loki.

"I didn't try to take the All-Father's power for myself." she protested, despising the defensiveness in her tone. Predators did not have to defend themselves. "When I went against his commands, it was because I was trying to protect Thor. To protect _you_."

The words lingered between them. Sif didn't remember if she had ever managed to leave Loki speechless. There had been dozens of times the parts were reversed, of course. Loki wasn't called Silvertongue for nothing.

"I'm sorry that I failed." She was surprised that she truly meant those words. If she had just paid more attention, if she hadn't chosen to see the worst in Loki... It could all have gone differently. "I'm sorry that we now stand here as enemies."

"You are not my enemy, Sif." He had told her that just a few moments ago, but in different words. Knowing Loki, it surely had some kind of secret meaning, but she couldn't fathom it. "You just don't know it yet."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, failing to restrain herself.

She could guess what he was aiming at and it made her twice as angry. He knew her. He knew what she valued above everything else. Her duty. How dare he suggest she would betray everything she believed in, everything she had spent her life fighting for?

"Maybe I'll tell you." he smirked secretively, making her relax and tense even more at the same time. If he wasn't implying she wasn't loyal to Asgard, what was he trying to say? "If you do something for me in return."

"I won't play games with you, Loki." she forced herself to sound cold and collected. She had learned from the best, after all. She couldn't let him throw her off balance again.

"And here I thought we were having fun." His sarcasm was ignored, but he continued to speak. "It is no difficult task. Even a pesky mortal such as Thor's could do it."

Sif stiffened at the mention of Thor's mortal. She had nothing personal against the girl, but Thor's obsession with her was unhealthy. She was weak and short-lasting. Definitely not Queen of the Nine Realms material.

"Jealous, are we?"

"No." she snapped again, just giving him more reasons to laugh at her.

"It's alright, I happen to dislike the girl too." She knew he had never even met the girl; it was the fake honesty that would easily fool any stranger – and even some who knew him – that worried her. "Anyway, come to visit me again tonight."

He had caught her off guard yet again.

"Why?"

"You asked me what I meant by saying you didn't know you weren't my enemy."

There was a spark in his eyes that she didn't trust, as if he had just won this round of the game. What had she done wrong? "I will explain it to you if you come here tonight. That's all I'm asking."

It was a tempting offer – for a moment, at least.

"No." He would not lure her into his trap, whatever it was – she would not let him. He knew her, but she knew him too – as much as anyone could know the god of lies. "I will not engage myself with your mind games."

She would lose. While she was a match for any man in strength or a fight she would not win a battle of wits against Loki.

"Suit yourself." he shrugged his shoulders, but there was no disappointment in his features, no sign of a failed plan. "But, before you leave, let me fill you in on a little secret." He drew close the barrier, bending to put his face only inches from hers. His next words came out on only the softest of exhales, his tone hard and gentle at the same time. "You already have."

The mocking certainty in his voice, the eagerness of someone being right, it sent her over the edge. She would not listen to his poisonous lies any longer. She had stood through enough.

She could hear him chuckle as she left the dungeon. Her feet carried her swiftly to a place as far away from him as possible. It was only when she felt the breeze on her skin did she realize she was standing on the beginning of Bifröst. She could see Heimdall standing guard in the distance, but she wasn't in the mood for speaking to the Watcher.

Biting her lip, she forced herself to calm down. Loki had not won; she had. She hadn't given in to his temptations. She had refused his offer.

So, why did it feel as if the game was not over yet?

Why did she feel she was losing?

...

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_AN - Hello fellow people! As mentioned in the summary, this piece was co-written by myself and the wonderful malifcbfan1899. I urge that you go check out her pieces when you have finished. This story is a compilation of our work, with malifcbfan1899 writing Sif's point of view as she turns to the dark side, and mine while Sif sticks with the light. We will each post our respective chapters at the same time, each dealing with the same scene but our different points of view. Chapters will be labelled clearly, let us know if you have any trouble following. Hopefully (if we can stick to our schedule) we intend to update roughly once a week. I hope you all know the true worth of this promise from authors though. No guarantee. Happy to take suggestions of something you would like to here about, but no promises it will make it into our story. Reviews make both our day's, so send any and all thoughts in._

_Lots of love,_

_Me_


	2. A Dark Leap Of Faith

Chapter 2 - A Dark Leap of Faith

by Malifcbfan

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From the window to the door. Then back again.

And once more.

And again.

And again.

It was the middle of the night which seemed like the longest night in Sif's life, during which she hadn't closed her eyes a single time. She had given up trying hours ago. She knew when something was pointless.

Her body reflected the restlessness of her mind as she walked from one wall of her room to the other, like a lioness trapped in a cage. It felt as if the space of her room was shrinking, giving her the chilling feeling of suffocating. The walls came closer from all four sides with every step she made, watching her fight herself. Few times, she had wished they would just be done with it and crash her into nothingness.

_Come to visit me again tonight._ She had long since lost track of how many times those words had gone through her mind and how many times she had banished them away. Still, they kept coming back, like a disease not fully cured. _You are not my enemy, Sif. You just don't know it yet._

Why did those words bother her so? She _knew_ where her loyalties lay. She had never doubted them.

_I am loyal._ She repeated to herself for the thousandth time. _To Asgard. To Odin. To Thor. To Frigga. To the Warriors Three. To Lo ..._

Her breath got stuck in her throat. She still had to remind herself of that.

She was _not_ loyal to Loki. Not anymore.

He had lost her loyalty the moment he had tried to take what did not belong to him. If he had just managed to keep her jealousy, his greed under control, maybe she would still feel bound to protect him, to care for him. She couldn't care for him now. It would be a weakness she could not afford.

Still, even if she didn't care for him, it didn't prevent him from occupying her every thought. After she had left the dungeons, the rest of her day had been spent in training with the Warriors Three. But, no matter who she had been facing, her opponent had been taking form of the green-eyed prince of Asgard. He had been smirking at her, challenging her to a battle she knew she could not win. It was likely the reason why she had sent her friends back to their rooms with dozens of bruises all over their bodies. The training yard was her arena. There, she held the victory firmly in her grasp. It didn't feel as if it could slip through her fingers like sand. She felt strong there. She felt safe.

_Even a pesky mortal such as Thor's could do it._

_Thor's mortal doesn't know what you are like. And she is better for it._ She regretted that she hadn't told him that to his face this afternoon. It was too late now. If she went to him, even if only to tell him that, she lost. He won.

Or did he?

_If I don't come, he will gloat over my fear._ Yes, she finally admitted to herself the thought that had been entertaining her mind for quite a while. It was fear that was holding her back. Fear of being manipulated into ... into something that was not light. Loki had fallen, far beyond the abyss beneath Bifröst. She was afraid that he could find a way to take her with him.

But, her pride would have none of that. She had spent her life proving to everyone that underestimating her was a grave mistake. Since when did she underestimate herself? Since when did she let others be right when they told her she couldn't do something?

_I will not let him deceive me._ Suddenly, she found herself opening the door of her room and checking for guards in the corridor. _I can face him. And then I can walk away with my head held high, knowing I've beaten the Trickster at his own game._

Her steps echoed the empty corridors. Everyone was asleep but her and – she guessed – one certain prisoner.

_I'm being ridiculous._ She suddenly stopped in her steps and turned around, heading back for her room. _This is what he wants. He wants me to come to him so he can taunt me. Well, I will happily make him wait the whole night for nothing._

"Lady Sif?"

The voice startled her, even if it was but a whisper. She turned around to see a guard walking towards her, from what could easily be the direction of the dungeon.

"I am fine." She said, waving at him to stop coming closer. He didn't need to see the way her hands were shaking at the thought of having been caught. "I just ... couldn't sleep."

"Do you want me to fetch a healer?" he asked with genuine worry in his voice.

"No, no." she shook her head hurriedly. How Loki would laugh if he knew the only way for her to sleep throughout the night would be with the help of a sleeping potion. She could see the smirk playing on his lips clearly as if he was standing in the guard's place right in front of her.

"I am fine." She repeated and yawned, if only for the show. "I just needed a little walk to clear my head. It's been a stressing day for us all."

"Yes, that it has." Ne nodded in agreement, but still eyed her worriedly.

"Well, I'm off to my bed now." She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a small smile, the best she could come up with. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. Good night."

"Good night." He bided as she turned around. Only when she made three steps forward did she hear the sounds of his feet fading away in the distance.

She turned around once again.

_I do hope you have fallen asleep, Loki. _She felt unusually malicious, but it was far from disturbing. In fact, with each step, she felt more pleased with the idea of interrupting his sleep in revenge for him having been interrupting hers. _I do hope you dream nice dreams. Because they are about to be taken away from you._


	3. Fading Light Gives Way To Night

Chapter 2 - Fading Light Gives Way To Night

by SaintClaire

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The ringing in Sif's head suggested that a very fat man wearing a voluminous and loose-fitting set of armour had somehow clanked inside and was currently marching back and forth banging a very large drum.

Loudly.

Being one of the only women who was stationed in the warriors wing of the palace had its merits, she was in the last room of the building, tucked around the corner and facing the sea of Asgard. As a remarkable privilege, a balcony graced the small set of rooms, and she enjoyed being able to stand out in the open as opposed to hanging out the window. The view was doing nothing to calm her however, the peaceful scenes below only highlighting the turmoil in her mind. She was lying in a washtub, which she had dragged onto her balcony, into the fresh air and soft, fading light in the hope that it might help alleviate her headache, but to no avail.

Loki, Loki, Loki. Somehow everything always came back to him. Dead or not dead, missing or not missing, he managed to seep into every crack and crevice of her life, without even needing to be there. She could hear his laughing chuckle in her head, for Yggdrasil's sake.

What could he possibly have to explain to her? What excuses could he possibly erect, that he might think overrode the betrayal he had committed. She didn't know what they had been before Thor's coronation. Friends was too light a word, lovers too physical a one, and partners still missed an element of something. Whatever they were, friends, whatever, they didn't do this to each other. But this was foolish of her. She had to harden her heart toward him, had to supress the weaker side of her that wanted to give him a second chance, see what he had to say.

Idly watching water ripple around her fingers, which were curling and uncurling into fists, a faint niggle of doubt was now accompanying the marching idiot with a drum.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, what-are-you-going-to-do?

Impossible to fight her own thoughts, but Sif was a hardened warrior and had won more battles than she had celebrated birthdays. War did not lose. Still… Loki was planning something. He had made that clear, and she would have been a fool if she hadn't suspected it anyway. Wouldn't the wiser move be to pretend to listen in understanding? Get an idea of his plans before he could unleash whatever horrors he might think up, in his eternity of daydreaming in white-walled cell? The man with the drum started yelling that she was rationalising her own wishes to see him. Thankfully, she realised how absurd it was, to argue with one's own conscious, even when it comes in the form of a fat-armoured drummer, and put that feeling aside as a moment of doubt caused by her astounding headache.

Loki's laughing antics in the cell had showed to the whole dungeon how carefree he regarded himself, so unaffected by the situation. Whether that was false or not, Sif had caught the scent of something else. There was a whiff, the faintest scent of desperation. This was a gamble. Whose it was and how high the stakes rose were unknown, but all she knew was that she couldn't afford to be on the losing side.

What did he mean, he wasn't her enemy? He was certain of it, he had spoken with an absolute confidence that showed his complete lack of doubt. What was he supposed to be, if he wasn't her enemy?

A sudden assault of memories flooded past, battle after battle, where Loki stood hard and straight on the left flank, throwing knives and apparitions of himself around like jugglers tossed balls. At the end of a battle, when everyone gathered together, covered in sweat and dirt and smeared blood, he would face Sif, offer a single beaming smile before being thumped hard on the back by Thor as he would start to boast of his dramatized feats. He was no enemy then. He had saved her neck, several more times than she would care to admit, though she had saved him twice as often. So often she had spun in a turn like some sort of heavily armed ballerina to find a monster dropping dead at her feat, sword still flying toward her with momentum, a silver knife stuck firm in it's back.

He saves her, she saves him. Whose turn was it?

The water was hot, but her blood was boiling now, her fingers now stirring up waves in the water. War held prices. She had to assume that whatever Loki wanted could be the start of one, and that meant she had to evaluate the damage that could be caused. His price would be Asgard. Surely, there was nothing else he could want. Wether the destruction of the city, or the control of it, there was nothing else he would be so solely focused on having, not that he was determined he needed her to achieve.

She had to go. She had to go see him, for everyone else's sake. The future of Asgard could be at stake, and that wasn't something she was prepared to lay on the card table of life. The voice representing Loki in her head snorted in derision, and she could practically hear the sarcastic remark he could have made, but she pushed the thought away. Steeling her resolve and her backbone in one straight swoop, she pushed up from the tub. Water cascaded off her body in miniature waterfalls, the darkly tanned and pale white flesh gleaming softly as droplets sank back to the bath.

The sun hadn't quite disappeared, but the moon had begun to grace the sky.

Wrapping herself firmly in a large towel, she strode to the cupboard, kicking the door open to pick clothes at random. It went without saying that an armoured breast plate was included in her choices, there was no point in looking weak. Not before him. Never him.

Kicking open her own door, wet hair flying out behind her, the guards at the end of the hall turned in surprise as she strode out the door and began to leap down the stairs. At the hard set of her face though, they said nothing, merely turned back to their posts.

A dangerous, gleaming smile started to grow on Sif's face. She was war. It was her duty to save Asgard from any evil. She was Sif. It was also her duty to save the man, who had so often stood, at the point of left flank, twirling his silver knife. The trick to Loki's skills was his grace, he was so light on his feet he could seem to float across a battlefield, silvertongue ready to burn paths where his knives could not.

She knew him. She had to achieve in this battle what she did in their sparring battles, pushing relentlessly until she had him locked against the ground with her legs around his waist. She could not end up trapped against the wall with the God of Mischief between her legs and a knife at her throat.

This would be a war of mischief, but she would win. Not Loki.

..

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_AN - Wow, up to date publishing! Okay, hopefully everyone is not too confused, our respective chapters will always have dark or light in our titles, to let you know whose side your reading. Feedback or something you'd like to see is always welcome, any questions, chuck them in too. And please, all those people who followed this fic - leave a review this time please?_


	4. Whispers In The Dark

Chapter 3 – Whispers In The Dark

By malifcbfan1899

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* * *

He lay on the bed, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he breathed. He looked like he had no worry, his mind flying far beyond the limits of the walls of his cell. Perhaps he was dreaming of the world where he was free, where the crown he so desired rested on his head.

Sif stood in the darkness, her dark clothes merging with black walls around her. She carried no weapons, fearing they would have made noise. Tonight, she was just a shadow, a thief in the night. Her presence there had to remain secret. So she watched him in silence, finding she did not actually feel present there at all.

_Where am I in that world of his?_ She caught herself wondering. _Am I locked away like he is in this one? Am I dead? Am I at his side because I am not his enemy?_

Suddenly, his face frowned, as if his dreams had taken a bad turn. Or perhaps he had sensed her presence. He turned to his right, as if he was about to meet her gaze and get up.

Her breath got stuck in her throat at the thought of being caught, but all he did was turn to find a more comfortable position. His eyes remained closed and his expression softened.

She could breathe again.

_It was a mistake to come here._ She thought as she watched him sleep on peacefully._ I should leave._

She turned around, ready to sneak out of the dungeon in the same soundless steps she had come here. She didn't want anyone to know of the words Loki had said to her. It was her burden to bear, her secret to keep. It didn't change her loyalty to Asgard.

"Leaving so soon?"

The familiar, sarcastic voice startled her. Knowing there was no point in pretending she hadn't heard him, she faced the walls of the cell again.

There were two Loki's in the cell. One was still deeply asleep on the bed. The other one was leaned onto the wall of the cell and stared at her with a mocking smirk on his lips, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I came." She made a step towards him to show him she was not afraid. Nervous, yes, a little. Afraid, not, maybe a little. "I believe you owe me an explanation of your words from earlier."

"You have watched me for quite some time." he glanced at his doppelganger disappearing into thin air, ignoring her words as if she hadn't said them. "Why didn't you wake me the moment you arrived?"

The truth was she couldn't tell how long she had been watching him. Time had seemed to stand still as she had thought of the world where he was the King of Asgard.

"I came to get an answer, Loki, not to give one." She could play his game too. "And it seems I've been wasting my time."

"I've got an impression watching me has been rather enlightening experience for you, Sif." He drawled her name mockingly. "For a moment, I even thought I saw pity in your eyes."

"You saw wrong." She snapped at once. Only when his smirk widened did she realize how easily he had thrown her off balance.

"Did I?" he pushed himself away from the wall and came closer to her. "Even after everything I've done, you still think of me as your childhood friend who has just gone a little astray."

"A _little_ astray?" She raised her eyebrows, her voice full of sarcasm. "I know what you

have done on Midgard. I've heard how you stabbed Thor in the back while he was trying to help you, to save you. You are a murderer and a liar."

Words burst out of her like a murderous tornado. All the anger, pain, sadness, with him in the center of each of them. He deserved to hear the truth. He deserved to feel the same pain all of them who had once known him did.

Green eyes narrowed at her and then were closed. When they opened again, they were red as blood.

Eyes of a Frost Giant.

She had been told of the truth of Loki's birth, but _hearing_ it and _seeing_ it were completely different things. She inhaled suddenly, unable to restrain shock and even a bit of disgust from showing on her face.

"I do not deny your words." He said, those read eyes burning hers like fire. "But, I've learned from the best. I've learned from the man who has lied to me all my life, who has told me he should have left me to die when I was nothing more than a helpless child. Are you truly so surprised by what I am now?"

When he put it like that, she found she was not surprised at all. She had watched him grow up with only one thought on his mind; to get Odin to love him as much as he loved Thor. She remembered the times when his mask had cracked, times when she had seen the lonely, hurt boy who hid behind the mischievous smirk. If he had known the reason why he wasn't judged by the same scale as Thor from the start, would that have saved him from all the bitterness and hatred that filled his heart now? Would he have searched for his happiness elsewhere, instead in destruction of everything Odin had built in revenge for Odin having shattered everything he had held dear?

What would she have done if she had known? Would she have told him the truth?

"If your quarrel is with the All-Father, which it obviously is, you are speaking to the wrong person." She noticed his eyes were green again. How long had she stood in silence? "I still do not see what any of this has to do with me and the words you have said to me."

He smirked. She didn't like that smirk.

"Tell me, Lady Sif, do you know what a slave dreams of?"

The question caught her off guard. Still, the answer was obvious.

"Of the same thing you do." His face was blurred for a second as she glanced at the walls between them. "Freedom."

"How wrong you are." He drawled mockingly, his smirk widening. "The correct answer of someone in your positions would have been 'I am not a slave'."

She bit her lip. She should have guessed there had been more to his words than just an ordinary riddle. Still, he had gained no power over her by this. She had understood the question differently than he had intended her to. There was nothing to feel guilty about.

"Then you shouldn't be surprised that I do not know what a slave dreams of," she said with mock sweetness in her voice. "I should be, or at least consider myself one in order to know that."

"Deep inside of you, you know." His smirk was replaced by fierce confidence in the trueness of his words. Her heart started beating faster, pounding loudly against her temples. "You have thought about it."

"About what?" She could deny his confession. She would not be able to deny her own. "If you have something to say, Loki, spill it out. I don't have all night."

Impatience and annoyance in her voice broke his mask of seriousness. He smirked in amusement, his green eyes shining mischievously.

"It would be too easy for you if I just told you the answer." He came one step closer and they were face to face now. "I'll give you time to think about it. You can ask whoever you want for help; even tell them who has asked you the question. You can search through every book you think can help you. When you find the answer, come back to me."

She hated his suggestion of telling others of their conversation, because she knew he knew she kept this secret. She hated that he treated her as a child given a task by her teacher. She hated his last words, spoken in a low whisper as if they were lovers about to be separated and then reunited again.

"And what if I refuse to play this game any longer?" She raised her eyebrows, making a step backwards to emphasize her refusal. "What if I don't come back?"

"You will."

Firm belief in his voice made her stop in her steps, sending shivers down her spine. How could he sound more convinced in his words than she was in hers if it was her decision to make?

"What makes you think that?" she asked, half-fearing the answer.

"You ask so many questions for someone so sure of her choices." his eyes sparked as if in victory, making her shiver. "Maybe I will tell you the next time we meet again."


	5. Fire-Light On Ice

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Chapter 3 – Fire-Light On Ice

By SaintClaire

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* * *

Hardened warrior or not, she had to dig deep to get herself through the entrance of the dungeon. Every helmeted head she met turned her way, not even trying to be subtle as they stared, some not even bothering to rectify their open mouths. Let them think what they would.

Loki was lounging on his bed, one knee idly rocking from side to side as he stared at the ceiling with his arms behind his head. He knew perfectly well she was there, but didn't look up.

"You have until the count of 5, _Loki_, before I march straight back out of this dump and leave you to rot." At the very least, no-one had ever accused Sif of not getting to the point.

Loki's head came up, an insolent smile on his face as he pushed up to recline on his elbow. His hair was ruffled from the bed, his jacket undone, his shirt open at the neck. That the man looked more relaxed and casual after 12 hours in a prison cell than the last few months when he had been free was not lost on Sif.

"The Lady Sif, I am honoured with your presence. Here I thought you would keep yourself up all night pacing holes through your floor, and throwing swords at fools who dare to ask after your wellbeing."

"You wanted me, trickster, I _came_." The moment the words had left Sif's mouth she regretted them. She had made herself sound like a dog waiting for his whistle.

Loki's eyes glittered and sparked, a malicious smile leaping onto his face, but he didn't say anything.

Grinding her teeth, with the ball in his court, she spat out, "you said I wasn't your enemy. Yet you are a frost giant, a traitor, and have sworn to bring down my king. What are you to me?"

In response, Loki turned, walking to the other wall of his cell and then spun around, suddenly appearing inches from her, bent over so that they were face to face on either side of the glass. He raised his arm between their faces, and as she watched, the blue veins rippled and turned white, like ice. The blue spread over his arm, washing over the pale skin. His free hand twitched, moved to the underside of his arm, and like she watched so many times before, a ball of fire appeared.

Horrified, she pounded the glass, screaming at him as he moved the flames to engulf the blue skin, the firelight dancing in terrifying patterns, tracing the shape of ice-white veins. Yet nothing happened. The skin did not blacken, his face showed no trace of pain, and eventually, the flames flickered out, disappearing into non-existence.

Panting, she stepped backwards, looking away, needing distance.

"All those times people joked that I must have ice in my veins." His voice was smooth, velvety, with what she knew was carefully controlled anger. "It seems that I do."

She could not look at him. She had sat with him, played outside with him, leaned up against him countless times in the winter, when he had laughed and embraced her to his chest, as she tried to escape the cold that he didn't seem to feel.

With his next words though, her head snapped up.

"You once promised me a favour. Any request, whatever I wanted. You may remember, it was shortly after I cut of your hair?"

She did remember that. The loss of her hair had seen her family finally acknowledge her position as a shieldmaiden of Asgard. Lost in her giddiness, she had leapt into his arms, hit him as hard as she could on top of his head, and then kissed him, swearing and praising him alternately.

Sif felt sick to her stomach as she remembered it, she had promised faithfully she would give him a favour in return for the opportunity he had given her. And he had waited, biding his time for centuries, to call in her favour when it mattered.

He laughed, at the horrified look on her face. "I am not asking you to spring me from jail. Nor am I asking you to kill the Allfather, or perform any other task that you would find most odious."

"So what do want, Loki?", she snapped, kicking the glass in her anger. "What will you trap me to do for you, while you are trapped in this cell?"

He tutted at her temper tantrum, turning away in disinterest, as if she were no longer worthy of his notice. He made as if to walk away from her, and losing it completely, she leapt forward to press her body against the glass, and screamed at him, shocking herself at the sound of her voice.

"LOOK AT ME!"

In a heartbeat, he had whirled around, and mirrored her against the glass, palms against hers, body pressed to body. Their faces were so close, she could hear him breathing with her, breath for breath. His eyes were shining, burning with triumphant delight, and she realised with dismay that this had been his goal. To unhinge her, letting her show how desperate she was for his answers.

She had played right into his trap. She was desperate, and she didn't even know what for. Her fingers suddenly twitched toward the sword in her belt, a mad urge for her muscles to cleave open the walls and dive on top of him, wrestle him to ground. Make him succumb to her, _just once._

With a shaking breath, she stepped back from the glass, and his gaze darkened with disappointment. His tongue darted to moisten his lips, and Sif turned around, raking her damp hair away from her face and rubbing both hands against her face, trying to calm herself down.

When she had summoned up the courage to turn back around, Loki was kneeling on the floor, looking past her to the stairs, disappointment now evident on his face.

"The favour I would ask of you is your trust." The words were quiet, almost emotionless, and if she hadn't been staring straight at his face, she might not have believed he had spoken.

"The only thing I would ask of you tonight Sif, is that you agree to trust me, or at least to try. You did once. You did it for years, with a faith fools would call blind. Is it so wrong of me to hope you might trust me again?"

Her voice was shaking, her breathing uneven.

"Yes. You betrayed us all, you would have killed Thor, have killed me, when you took to destroy Midguard…" her voice trailed off, and she sank to floor on the opposite side of him, so they were both looking at each other with distance between them.

"So? How many times has Thor tried to kill me, when he's angry? How many times, when we were little, did the Warriors Three use me as their personal training dummy?"

"That was different, that was play fight-"

"Play fighting does not leave one in a healers care for days, with stab wounds through the chest. And what about you Sif?"

She met his eyes, with a feeling he would give his own answer to the question, and she wouldn't want to hear it.

"I've fought at your front, your side, and your back for more centuries than Midgard has stood for. I could fling a knife at your head and you would know to duck, you would run at me while lifting your side, I would know to roll under your legs as you leapt over me. I stood with you as Thor boasted falsely, stood with you as Thor was crowned sole hero of a battle while we were merely _sidekicks,_ stood beside you as Thor was put to sit on a throne…"

Sif leapt up and ran, running for the exit as Loki reminisced in the distance. She could still hear his sad laughter, it echoed through every passage, surrounding her on every side, with the voices of dozens of Loki's.

A final call came from the sad figure, still kneeling against the enchanted glass as she bounded up the stairs three at a time, covering her face.

"Come and see me again Sif, and we _will_ finish this then."

Sprinting along marble floors, skidding around corners like a fool, there are no more people to stare, which is what she needs. She keeps running, through the doors, out into the gardens. She finally stops beside a lavender bush, falling to her knees in the dirt, sobbing in the company of old memories.

She wants so badly to give in to him. She wants to trust him. The Allfather lied, keeping from the child he called his son the most important heritage a person can own, and Loki had gone on his rampage. What to think, what to think…

She stayed there, rocking and weeping in the cold, desperately breathing in the lavender like it was a drug. Only when the sun started to rise did she, trying to wipe the tearstained face in an attempt of normalcy. Wandering away from the little bush, she walked to the beginning of the rainbow bridge, which was beginning to shine it's colours in the pale light.

In the distance, she could see Heimdall's figure, steadfast as a rock as he observed the dawning heavens. Wiping her face for the last time, clearing her throat and trying to brush the dirt from her knees, she stepped onto the bridge, and a myriad of colours burst like kaleidoscope off her armour.

* * *

_AN - Yes it's late. I did warn you. Things will start to speed up a bit soon, and in answer to a reviewers question, we will be trying to work in some mythology. Great thanks (from both of us) to those who left reviews. The rest of the readers - now's your chance :)_


	6. Dark Lies, Dark Truths

Chapter 4 – Dark Lies, Dark Truths

By Malifcbfan

..

_Tell me, Lady Sif, do you know what a slave dreams of?_

_Of the same thing you do. Freedom._

_The correct answer of someone in your position would have been 'I am not a slave.'._

Memories of their talk had been flashing through Sif's mind ever since she had left the prison. They were unsettling and frustrating, but yet compelling, much like Loki himself.

She could not keep his voice out of her head, his riddle echoing in her ears louder than steps she made, breaths she drew. Her legs couldn't carry her far enough, for wherever she went, he was always there, as if already waiting for her, as if he had been set free without her knowledge.

She didn't go back to her room, but continued to roam empty corridors of Asgard. When the palace became too tight, she found herself outside, her surroundings bathing in light of countless stars. There was incredible beauty to silence of usually crowded place, but her mind was so overwhelmed with words that she could not enjoy it.

She knew she should forget everything that had happened, but still, she found herself unable to let it go. She was grateful that her thoughts were only hers to hear, for she could not stand the shame of being caught thinking about the fallen prince far more than it was proper to.

_Tell me, Lady Sif, do you know what a slave dreams of?_

_Of the same thing you do. Freedom._

_The correct answer ..._ No, there was something missing. He had said something before that. If only she could remember ...

_Freedom._

_How wrong you are. The ..._

_How wrong you are._

What if he hadn't spoken of freedom being the wrong answer? What if he had meant _he _didn't dream of freedom?

_What do __**you**__ dream of, Loki?_ It was the key to solving his riddle, she was sure of it. It was just like Loki to give her the answer as he actually asked the question. She could feel it being just within her reach, almost palpable under her fingers ...

"You look troubled." A familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts, startling her.

"Heimdall." She smiled at the Watcher, trying to appear casual when she was actually furious. She had been so close to the answer and now her line of thoughts – the one she had had a feeling it would lead her to a success – was broken. Still, she had enough common sense not to show her anger. After all, it wasn't his fault that she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. Moreover, he didn't need to know what had been occupying her mind. "I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"You seem far more disturbed than me." Heimdall's golden eyes studied her carefully, making her swallow hard. Did he know? At last, seeing all – hearing all – was what the Watcher was famous for. "Can I be of any help?"

"Thank you for your concern." Sif offered her widest smile, a smile that was meant to mask the anxiety that was eating her from inside. "But, I am fine. A little tired, but fine."

"Why does Loki steal your sleep?" His voice held no accusation, just worry.

She should have known Heimdall had heard every word of her and Loki's conversation. Thank the Yggdrasil she had been wise enough not to speak out loud about many things that had crossed her mind. Many of them hadn't shown her loyalties in good light.

"I wanted to know why he'd turned his back on us." It was the truth, or at least it had been in the beginning. She hadn't come back to Loki for the same reason the second

time. "He promised me an answer. And then he broke that promise."

"His words are those of a madman." Heimdall's voice was sharp and cold as he glanced at the palace in the distance, as if checking on Loki. "Do not waste your time by trying to reason with him. He is beyond that at this point."

_Is he?_ She hadn't noticed it. Loki had seemed perfectly reasonable in that cell. Evil, selfish and frustratingly annoying with his mind-games, perhaps, but far from mad. In fact, now that she thought of it, Loki seemed more – well, _Loki_ – than ever. He still craved things he couldn't have. He still threw her off balance with his games and mischief. He still _challenged_ her, made her try harder. He had always done that. As if he actually wanted her to match him. As if the game would be boring if they weren't equally good at playing it.

"Yes, I guess you are right." Her moment of hesitation luckily passed unnoticed by Heimdall. To her surprise, relief was soon followed by disappointment. The Watcher could see the furthest corner of the Nine Realms and yet things that were so close to him escaped his notice. "I just ... I never thought he would betray us."

"There were signs." Heimdall's gaze met hers again. "We just chose to ignore them."

What kind of signs? Were any of those signs visible in her behaviour? But, they shouldn't be. She wasn't betraying Asgard. She was just playing a game. It wouldn't matter if she lost it. It wouldn't help Loki escape Asgard. No kind of madness would be able to make her set him free.

"Why does he want you to come back to him again?" The Watcher asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. "He must know you would never betray us."

"Maybe it's because he is bored and wants to play riddles." A humourless laugh escaped her lips. There was no use in trying to hide what Loki had said to her from Heimdall.

Still, she wouldn't fall as far to ask for help. In fact, she didn't even want to discuss Loki's riddle with Heimdall. He shouldn't even know about it. It was between her and Loki.

"You shouldn't go back."

"Why?" She raised her eyebrows. "Do you really think me so weak that I would succumb to him?"

"Because it's what he wants." He said coldly. "And prisoners should be denied everything they want."

_What about what __**I**__ want?_ Sif caught herself wondering defiantly. She wanted to win her and Loki's game. She couldn't do that by avoiding the dungeons like a plague. _All of my life, I have put others' wishes before my own. Not anymore, not in this. This is my fight and I'm going to win it my way._

"Don't you trust me?" She asked in fake hurt tone. Her victory would never be complete if she would have Heimdall peering from behind her shoulders all the time. The Watcher had to turn his eye somewhere else when she visited Loki tonight.

"I do, but ..."

"Then let me handle Loki on my own." She interrupted him before he could finish. "I don't know why he has chosen me to play his games with, but I intend to beat him. But he won't be direct with me as long as he knows you are watching us. If I can convince him it is just between me and him, maybe he will let something slip."

"You can lie to him." Heimdall said, still not convinced. "Tell him you have ensured whatever you have remains secret."

"He will know." She countered at once. How didn't he understand it was Loki, the God of Lies, they were talking about? She couldn't lie to him about the weather outside, let alone the secrecy of their meetings. Nevertheless, she had to make this seem her fault rather than Loki knowing her better than she knew herself. "You know how terrible I am at lying. Please, Heimdall, have faith in me – like you've always had."

The Watcher's expression softened, like she had expected it would.

They had known each other for so long and not once had the sibling-like bond they shared been severed. Whenever she felt she couldn't handle something, Heimdall was always there to provide help or comfort. He was her sanctuary; her anchor to everything safe and familiar, even more than Thor ( 'Thor' and 'safe' definitely didn't go hand in hand ). She knew he always watched over her, never asking for anything in return.

Still, she wanted him to stay out of this. She was a grown woman, a veteran of thousands of battles. Loki was just another ... opponent. She could beat him without anyone's help.

"Are you sure of this?" Heimdall asked, his voice pleading with her to change her mind.

It had just the opposite result, making her even more resolute to go through with her plan.

"Your word and your trust is all I'm asking for, Heimdall."

He sighed in defeat, but his golden eyes remained focused on hers.

"You have them, Sif. Always."

"Thank you." She nodded and glanced at the Rainbow Bridge behind her back. It was all in one piece again, but her eyes saw it as it was in her memories. As it had been the day Loki had fallen. Suddenly, the ground felt unsteady beneath her feet.

"Go get some rest." Heimdall said gently, obviously having noticed something was not quite right with her. "Worry not about Loki. Whatever his plans are, he can't do anything as long as he remains behind the walls of his cell."

"Yes." She nodded again and faked another smile to assure him she was fine. "Thank you for this, Heimdall. I promise I will not let you down."

"Have you ever?" The Watcher smiled warmly. It was hard to make him smile, but somehow, Sif always managed to get through his armour of calmness and seriousness.

She had never put as many fake smiles on her face as tonight.

"Goodnight." she waved at him as she made her way back towards the palace, his words of trust echoing in her ears.

_There is a first time for everything._

…

At this point, only Hogun was sitting at their table with Sif.

Volstagg had, as always, wandered off looking for more food, while Fandral had already gone with two girls (or had there been three?) from the hall. On the other side of the room, Thor was receiving more patting on shoulders and praising for the victory that had happened on this day fifty years ago and whose anniversary they were celebrating.

Sif had noticed the eldest prince's thoughts were far from the celebration, just like hers. Though, she doubted they shared the destination. Thor's gaze often wandered off towards the window, as if he could see Midgard and his beloved mortal if just by looking at the newly rebuilt Bifröst. He had spent only few days with Lady Jane, yet it was obvious in his every expression how much he missed her.

_How is that possible?_ Sif wondered with not small amount of jealousy in her heart. _How can he love her so deeply? How can being apart from her cause him so much suffering?_

_I don't miss Loki that much and he is the only man I've ever ..._

No. She would not go there. She had always cared for Loki, but to think she _loved_ him? It was ridiculous. She did not love him. He did make her feel ... well, _more_, but it was not love. She knew what love was and whatever she felt for Loki was not love.

Was it?

"Sif." A gentle hand leaned on her forearm, bringing her back to reality. She raised her head to see Hogun was gone, but instead of alone, she was now in company of Lady Frigga.

"Your Majesty." She bowed her head, but instead as a gesture of respect, it came out as a grudging habit. She had waited half of the evening to be alone, so she could sneak out and go finish her talk with Loki, even though she still had no answer to his question, but her plan was ruined yet again.

"You have been unusually quiet this evening." Frigga spoke in patronizing tone.

Seriously, would everyone stop treating her like a child? She could have a bad day too.

"I guess I'm just tired." She offered the same explanation she had to Heimdall. "It is nothing you should worry yourself over, my Queen."

"That is what mothers do, and I have always thought of you as a daughter I have never had." Frigga smiled. "Forgive the old woman for worrying over bits and pieces you young ones think ridiculous."

Sif found she could not be angry with All-Mother for too long. At least the smile that spread over her face now was honest.

"Thank you for your kind words." She said, noticing bags under Frigga's blue eyes that greatly resembled her own. "But, yesterday was a hard day for us all. For Thor, the All-Father and you especially."

"Yes, it was." Frigga sighed, letting sorrow show in her features for a moment. "I wish we had been smarted, Odin and I. I wish we had told him earlier. Maybe he wouldn't be so full of rage and hatred and so keen on destroying Asgard."

Loki's name was obviously not to be said out loud. And Sif was sick and tired of playing by the rules.

"You have made your choices and Loki has made his." She said, trying her best to keep her tone neutral, but it still turned out cold. She had to alleviate her tone by words, a skill she had learned from Loki. "There is no use in thinking about what could have been. It will just pain you more."

All-Mother said nothing to that. Even if she had, Sif wouldn't care.

If Frigga was ashamed of her son's actions – of his very name – then why wasn't he dead? Why was he left to rot in a cell? Was it because he could still be of use?

But, she knew Loki would never help them, not even in exchange for his freedom. There was only one thing he would accept – something Odin had already refused to give him. She had been there when it had happened.

_All this because Loki desires a throne._

_It is my birthright._

His birthright?

_I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god. Just like you._

_Do you know what a slave dreams of?_

_Freedom._

_How wrong you are._

_What do __**you**__ dream of, Loki?_

_Throne._

She knew the answer. She knew the answer to his riddle.

"If you will excuse me, Lady Frigga." She rose to her feet. "I think I will retire for the evening."

"Of course." Frigga nodded. It was her duty as Odin's wife to stay until the end of the feast. It meant she could not follow her. "Goodnight, Sif."

"Goodnight." Sif bowed her head once again before turning around to leave.

Nobody noticed she had gone out through the door that led away from her chamber.

She hurried towards the dungeons, but halfway through, she stopped in the middle of an empty corridor. She went closer to the window and looked out.

Heimdall turned his face away from the palace.

_Good._ She thought as she continued her way.

_It is just you and me now, Loki._


	7. A Rainbow's Light

Chapter 4 – A Rainbow's Light

By SaintClaire

..

* * *

The bridge was beautiful in the early light, the sun splitting the essence of the rainbows in the glass into a myriad of gleaming colours that shone softly over Sif's armour as she walked.

Heimdall was waiting for her at the end of the bridge, silently observing the heavens that filled his visions. Like a small child, Sif wanted nothing more than to run to her brother, through herself into his arms, and have him reassure her that she was not a bad person for wanting to give in to Loki.

But the time for childishness was long gone, and instead she came to silent halt at his side, observing what of the world around her that she could see. So beautiful. So peaceful. Under Loki's hand, it could flourish or fall, and she had the horrible feeling that it would come down to her to make up his mind.

Loki's plans were only half formed. The decision would fall to her choice before he decided upon the rest of actions. Her armour clanked quietly, as she came to a halt beside Heimdall, she had lost a buckle that bound her breastplate to the plates that guarded her ribs. She stood there, in the colourful light for some minutes, observing the birds that flew, in the space above the ocean's end, the jumbled symphony of songs in perfect accordance with her tangled nerves.

Heimdall cleared his throat and shifted, finally turning to look at her. The rumbling baritone was comforting and familiar, but the words spoken were filled with unease.

"He plans something." She met his eyes, staring back at her brother with the same intensity he viewed her with.

"Yes, he does. And he wants my help with it."

Heimdall nodded, crossing his arms more firmly as his gaze shifted back to the sights in front of him. They knew each other well. To well to pretend they didn't know the other's intentions, or to lie with half-truths and indecision. He knew roughly of the tangled history Loki and Sif had kept, turning a blind eye to many of her decisions in respect. But at the moment, she didn't need respect, she needed his opinion. His honest opinion, not that there was much difference.

He glanced back at her for a moment, giving a slight half-smile, which gave her some comfort, though his next words did not. "You do not need my council. The King and Trickster both hold your loyalty."

Sif's expression was one of horrified dismay, her face falling further as he continued. "I will not judge you, whatever you decide."

Her brother's words were kind, but they did not help her come to a decision. Loki had given a choice to Sif, she couldn't expect to pass the burden onto her brother, it was not honourable. She would have to decide by herself. Heimdall had sworn his loyalty to Odin, she couldn't expect him to betray his leigelord for her sake.

Heimdall seemed to be on track with her thoughts, he shifted uncomfortable, face clouding over in concern. Steeling herself, she waited for the next words. She didn't have to wait long.

"I cannot allow a branded traitor to the realm to slip past my King." His gaze shifted, eyes flicking back and forth between Sif and the ocean. He sighed, continuing, "But I will not betray you. I must warn Odin that Loki is in danger of escaping, but I will not give your name over."

Her shoulders slumped in release, she was suddenly able to stand tall, able to face her brother again. "Thank you. I know how much it means to you."

He hummed in response, and the pair went back to standing in silence, watching the birds, until Heimdalls voice split the air again, like an axe through rock, rough and gravelling. "But you will have to make a choice. I cannot make it for you."

Voice close to cracking, tears pricked behind her eyes, though they did not fall. "But what if I make the wrong choice?"

Heimdall did not answer right away, continuing to observe the heavens around him while he considered what she said. When at last the rumbling baritone rang out, she felt something burn, in the pit of her belly.

"Then you will have the loyalty of the one that you did choose. And you will have mine, however much it is worth."

Slipping her hand into his, they stood together, as brother and sister above the peak of the abyss that the sea fell into. Birds shrieked overhead, calling their shrill cries out to ocean, which pounded into the cliffs and statues it surrounded. When Sif finally worked up the will to speak, she knew she was not just answering his blessing of loyalty, but another's.

"It is worth everything."

* * *

Frigga was sitting in her rooms reading when Odin came stomping in. He roared, his anger booming around the rooms as he paced back and forth, shouting half-formed oaths and curses against Loki's name. From what she was finally able to gather, Loki was about to gather an ally, though Heimdall was not able to be sure of who it was.

The Queen had learned the value of patience well over the centuries, she used it now, waiting quietly until her husband finally calmed down enough for him to through down his weapons and approach her.

"You must speak to all his friends. Anyone, anyone you can think of!" He ranted on, swearing against anyone foolish enough to help Loki, leaving Frigga's head reeling. She grew deaf to Odin's rant's, her mind focusing on one thought - someone wanted to help her son. Heimdall had sworn that the person who might help Loki would not do so at the expense at bringing Asgard down. Someone wanted to help her son. He would not accept help from her, nor comfort, nor anything else she was desperate to give. Whoever this person was - she would not allow Odin to throw them in cells for helping Loki. If she couldn't help her son, she would make sure whoever would was able to.

In a sudden movement, Odin surprised her by swiftly kneeling by her feet, taking both her hands in his. "I know you have not yet been able to cast Loki out of your heart as your son. But my dear, there is _nothing _more important than keeping the realm safe from Loki. Nothing. If there is anyone you can think of who mode side with him, friends, allies, women, anyone, you must tell me. We must keep them away, make an example of what happens to those who are traitor's to their King."

Outwardly Frigga smiled, cupping his face and assuring him that she would be aware. At Odin's prompting of women, a name had occurred to her, a name that not many people would couple with Loki's. She knew who Heimdall's 'threat' was, and this would explain why he hadn't been able to give a name. She promised her husband she would not compromise Asgard's safety, and Thor's future kingdom for Loki. But inwardly, her nerves became steel, her resolve became iron. Someone wanted to help her son. Wether her husband wanted it or not, she would do everything she could to help them. She would not abandon him again.

* * *

Wine flowed freely across the table, drunken laughter ringing across the hall. Sif fidgeted uncomfortably in her dress, feeling vulnerable in the thin silk. She would have far preferred to wear armour to the celebrations, even ceremonial armour, but it was not acceptable for a women to dress as such for a special occasion.

The celebration was not particularly a momentous one, merely an acknowledgement of a great battle that had taken place several decades ago. Tonight marked the 50th year from the end of the battle, when Thor had slain the great chief and the rebellion crumbled around them.

Sif had been at the battle. She, with the warriors three had fought at Thor's flanks, slaughtering countless monsters that had been foolish enough to cross their path's. Loki had fought alone, at the tree line, raising dead vines from the dirt, restoring them green and full of vigour, and the vines had flown high into the air, to the very tops of the trees and hung the rebels by their ankles until the battle ended.

His name was not mentioned once during the celebratory speeches.

Thor was praised time and time again, she and the Warriors Three were congratulated and spoken of, their personal triumphs of the battle spoken sung for every one to hear. No-one mentioned the dark haired prince who had hung the men from the tree-tops.

Since her conversation with Heimdall, Sif had been oddly quiet, unsure of what to do and what to say. She had a great deal to think about, and was nowhere near a decision. Thinking about loyalty lead to circles within circles, also spiralling off into the murky regions of morals, ethics and other untold or little-known truths. Thinking of Loki's possible plans for Asgard for was a vast landscape of terrifying and glorious possibilities, that she was almost scared to let herself think. And thinking of Loki's plans for her… was too terrible to even consider. It was a line of thinking that led nowhere, absolutely nowhere, the God of Mischief being too unpredictable for her to so much as take a guess at what might take his fancy to eat for breakfast.

It was as such, completely lost in a snared entanglement of thoughts, that she completely missed the Queen as she sat down next to her. It took Frigga's gentle hand on her arm and a murmured question about her welfare for Sif to jump nearly a foot in the air. Embarrassed, she returned to her seat, somewhat flustered. It had been years since she was taken by surprise, and even then, it had been in the warm privacy of her rooms and usually by - …

She couldn't go there.

"Sif, my dearest are you alright?" Frigga repeated, noting in concern the pale skin and still-glassy eyes that had prompted her to come over in the first place. Sif's gown was exquisite – she should know, she had given it as a gift to the warrior herself, but the thin silk did nothing to hide the pale skin and quaking limbs of the wearer.

Sif opened her mouth, about to thank the queen kindly for her concern, but to her horror instead, tears started to prick at the back of her eyes. Desperately, she tried to say something, but the words could not leave her throat, she was mute. She put her head in her hands, rubbing at her face angrily, trying to return to normal, but she couldn't do it. There was a hot, heavy mass lodged deep in her throat, her stomach was writhing and twisting with guilt.

Frigga laid a gentle arm across the girl's shoulders, waiting for her to regain her composure. She guessed at her thoughts, trying to think what she could possibly be so upset about. It didn't take her long to think up an answer, especially due to her earlier conversation. Whatever his birth right, Loki had been her son. There had been secrets he had kept from her, some she knew about and some she was sure that she would never know as long as she lived, but the tangled and messy relationship between him and Lady Sif had not been one of them. She didn't know the details, but she knew enough. Seeing Sif's head slowly rise again, the girl tried to say something but Frigga cut in before her.

"When Odin brought my son back to Asgard, as a baby, I was so thrilled. Thor was my only child." She drew circles on the surface of the table absentmindedly before continuing. "As they grew older, it was obvious the type of boys they would be. Thor wanted nothing more than to be a great warrior like his father, and spent all his time trying to sneak into the training grounds." She laughed, remembering a particular time when a guard had bodily carried the small prince back to his nursery for the umpteenth time before depositing him on the floor and stomping back out. "Loki was very different. He loved to learn things. He loved magic, loved the beautiful things it could create."

Her sons favourite trick when he had been small was to make the rain coloured. No sooner that it would start raining than Loki would appear in the gardens, getting thoroughly soaked, but laughing and smiling in an endearing childish glee as the rain turned gold. The golden rain had mixed with the beginnings of the silver water in the puddles, and the gardens had looked as though the ground itself was studded with precious metals, the trees and plants dripping droplets of gold. She had used to go out and stand with him, happy to be there in his rare joyous presence, but when he grew older, Loki had stopped turning the rain to gold. She knew he might have still done it, but only deep in the forests, for his own amusement when he was sure no-one else was around. When she had last stood there and held the hand of her little boy, - that had been a long time ago.

Frigga was a Queen in her own right, but her husband, as a man did the ruling. However, that did not deny the fact that Frigga was a shrewd women, something she had learned to be with a husband and sons like she had. When she had gone to the dungeons to give Loki a book, she had found a buckle in the hallway, a simple leather buckle that looked like it had been ripped away by accident as someone had put on armour in great haste, and missed the leather strip, leaving it to fall away from the person as they had sped away. The look on Loki's face had confirmed it. When he heard footsteps, he had looked up rather quickly, his face rippling before settling into a disinterested mask. She had not been who he wanted to see, and now, sitting beside the girl next to her, she was rather sure she knew who he did want.

Sif finally spoke, her voice a little rusty, but not as hoarse as one would expect from a person who had been seconds away from bursting into tears. "Do you believe people can be forgiven? For… whatever they have done?"

The Queen smiled sadly, laying a gentle hand over hers. "Oh Sif. Where would I be if I had not forgiven my sons and husband countless times over the years? " She could see Sif's face as her words struck her, conveying a far deeper meaning than one could read into the surface value of her words.

Frigga continued, eyeing Sif carefully, knowing how important her next words could be. "We have all done terrible things. Each and every one of us. We have all kept secrets from each other, and done things that we're not proud of. Nobility never meant that a person was better than another." She continued, with a deep breath. "Something to think of, my dear. We have lived for centuries. We have centuries left to go. " She smiled now. Patting the side of Sif's face as she made to stand up. "Whatever you decide – you will have decade after decade to live with your decision. Choose the one you can live with. Choose the one that makes you happy." She was about to go, turning away from the Shieldmaiden before a particular thought struck her, one she thought Sif might badly need to hear. "We're a family Sif. You, Me, Thor, Loki and the rest. Whatever happens, whoever we commit offences against – we are family. We can forgive each other."

"And if you cannot decide who to turn to… look to yourself Sif. You know better than almost anyone else, save perhaps one, what is best for you." And with her final message, Frigga walked away, wondering if a particular son of hers would be granted another visit in the dungeon tonight. Whatever it was worth, whatever the consequences might be, she was glad she had said what she did. She had a faint inkling that it might have tipped Sif toward the direction, that deep down, they both knew she wanted to go. Whatever the cost, her son needed someone. He could not have his father, he could not have his brother, and he could not even bring himself to accept his mother. If Sif was what he wanted, what he needed, then no price would be too high to pay for that, particularly if it meant that one day, her baby son, who had held her hand as they had danced in the rain would call her mother once again.

Sif was still sitting at the table in a dream, repeating the Queen's words over and over in her head when Thor came to her side, and asked her in a state of drunken merriment to accompany him for a dance.

She did so, accompanying him in the lively waltz in a rather graceless manner, head still spinning, from the Queen's… Permission? It was though the Allmother had guessed exactly what was in her head, and tried to tell her as discreetly as possible that she, like Heimdall would not condemn her for her choice, whatever it was. Two of the most important people to her had given her their support and their love, promising they would not cast her away whatever she decided.

Thoughts several hundred feet below her, down the left corridor to the dungeon, she was taken sharply back to the present as Thor lifted her and spun her in wide circle, her skirts flaring out and hair flying behind her. Almost tripping over her feet as she regained her balance, her thoughts flew away from her again, bringing her memories she couldn't keep at bay, of the last time she had danced in a Prince's arms.

Loki had never done anything graceless in his life. Dancing was no exception, his feet gliding across the floor with an unpractised ease that put every other man to shame. She would have looked ridiculous dancing with him, but he danced with such precision and skill that even her clumsy steps looked balanced with his.

They had never danced in front of people. After some man had accidently dropped her one day, letting her fall to the floor and disgrace herself in front of the court, Loki had found her outside in the gardens, where she was too embarrassed to go back inside. She had barely been able to look at him, but the music still swung from every window, billowing in the outside air, and Loki needed no permission from her to swing her into his arms. After she got over the surprise, and the fear of embarrassing herself again before him, she had begun to enjoy herself. Spinning in circles around the flowers, Loki had spun her and held her with such care that she didn't need to worry about what she looked like. As the tempo inside increased so did they, flying around the garden paths, twisting and whirling in circles as they danced through the garden, just visible by the half-moon's light. Finally, out of breath with the pace and Loki's refusal to let her go, she had started to laugh, breathlessly unable to stop as he joined in, their chuckling unheard of over the beating drums inside. When they had at last stopped, bowing to each other, she found they had circled back to where he had found her, outside the doors that led back to the palace. As he released her hands, warm and still in his own, Loki had smiled, a true, gentle smile, and slipped back indoors to where the people waited.

It had been the only time Sif ever remembered enjoying herself beyond all thought while dancing. Thor was an adequate partner, even in a somewhat drunken state, but he would never compare to his brother. When the music stopped and the couples bowed to each other, she was glad to step away, thanking him for the dance and slipping outside the ballroom to the relative quiet of the corridor.

With a dull ache in her chest, she noted the rising half-moon in the garden outside, and though she stood at the window, she couldn't bring herself to leave the hall and actually enter the garden. Some memories were worth too much to spoil by trying to return to them.

But the half-moon's light, while not giving her back old memories gave her something else.

Resolution.

At the end of the day, it all came down to choices. Which she could live with, which she couldn't. It would hurt her, more than she could say to betray the Allfather and help Loki, for whatever he might want. The Allfather was her sovereign, her King, the man she had pledged her loyalty to as a Shieldmaiden of Asgard. But while it may hurt her to turn against him, it might kill her to turn her back on Loki, and leave him to rot for centuries onwards in a stark white room where there was no rain, no music and no-one to even indulge him in a conversation for conversation's sake. No-one deserved that. No-one deserved a slow death, succumbing to madness after years of being thrown down by the people whom had called you family. Loki had betrayed the Allfather. But wether he meant to or not, the Allfather had betrayed Loki.

A father did not tell the man he had called his son, honoured as his son, and loved as his son that his very birth right had been to die. A father did not keep secrets as important as his for centuries, duping his family into secrecy so that Odin's life would be easier. A father did not turn his back on his children, casting them aside, cruelly and harshly, to be left in a position where no-one wanted anything to do with them, leaving them alone. He had done so to Thor, wether for his own good or Odin's pride, and he had done so to Loki, not even prepared to give his once-son a funeral when the Prince fell to the abyss beneath the bridge. Odin may have been her King, but to Sif's hardening opinion, he was no father.

She would not leave Loki to die in misery, without help, forgiveness or mercy for his once-father's pride. Between the two crimes, both men had committed countless murders, some necessary some not. They were equal in that score. But only one, in cold and callous deliberate decision, had left his son at the mercy of the abyss, which held no mercy at all.

Whatever it took, whatever it cost her, she would side with Loki.

..

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_AN - Yeah the chapters are late :) We've both been studying, so forgive us. The ball will really start to roll in the next couple of chapters, so they will probably be a bit on the late side as well. Please review, and can I ask that the nice people who do review might do so to both our chapters? The __feedback helps us both. Mythology will make a bit of an appearance soon hopefully, but it will be a bit on the subjective side. Love and left over easter eggs to all who review :)_

_SaintClaire_


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